Lucky Charm
by volley
Summary: Trip and Malcolm look for ways to complete an away mission without mishaps
1. Chapter 1

This story was written to answer the following challenge from SitaZ:

Write a humor story featuring Mal and Trip as main protagonists (who else ;) ?). The following things have to appear somewhere along the way (no matter in what order): Porthos, crutches, half a pineapple, and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. Also, you have to use the following lines at some point:  
(Trip): "Dammit, get me outta this cage right now!"  
and (Malcolm): "Are you challenging me, sir?" - "Why don't you make yourself useful once in a while and help me get this off?"

My grateful thanks to SitaZ and RoaringMice, who beta read it for me: your comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated and make all the difference!

111

"Have you seen Commander Tucker, Ensign?"

At the sound of Captain Archer's voice O'Rourke stood up abruptly, banging his skull on the console under which he had been working and producing an ominous thud.

"Ouch!"

Archer grabbed the ensign by an arm to steady him and saw the man quickly smooth out a grimace while he managed, with some difficulty, to stand at attention.

"Yes, Sir. Uhm, no, Sir, actually," O'Rourke stammered and silently chastised himself, _Great! First you almost knock yourself out cold in front of the Captain and then you blabber like an idiot. You'll be sure to make lieutenant in record time._

Then, having regained some faculty of coherent thinking, he added, "He was here for quite a while, but he left engineering about fifteen minutes ago."

"Thank you, Ensign," Archer replied. "Still in one piece?" he then enquired, his green eyes showing concern mixed with amusement.

"I'm fine, Sir," O'Rourke answered with a tentative smile. "It takes a lot more to damage this hard nut."

Despite his previous misgivings about acting stupidly in front of his CO, O'Rourke felt confident he could afford the playful reply. Captain Archer was just that kind of Captain.

Archer nodded, returning the smile. He made to leave, and his hand was already on the handle of the door when it flew open, almost into his face. The very man he'd been looking for appeared on the other side, half-turned towards the armoury officer who stood rigidly behind him. By the irritated tone of Trip's voice he was right in the middle of one of his recurring arguments with Malcolm.

"I _told_ ya, I can't spare any more… Capt'n!"

Tucker turned and started, not expecting to find Archer staring right into his eyes. His surprise lasted but a moment. "Taking a stroll in the bowels of the ship?" the engineer joked, instantly recovering both his good spirits and confidence.

"Actually I was hoping to talk to you, Commander," Archer replied, "Provided I'm not interrupting anything important…" he added with a mischievous glance towards Malcolm.

"Just fending off the attacks of our armoury officer, who wants the ship's juice all for himself, that's all," Trip commented flatly, and Archer knew this really meant 'what else is new, any interruption is welcome.'

The Captain saw Reed's back stiffen – not that it seemed at all possible; it was already ramrod straight.

The lieutenant tilted his head and retorted, in his clipped accent, "Then I'll see what I can do without _all_ that additional _juice_, Sir. Captain, Commander." He nodded curtly to his superiors and turned to leave.

"Malcolm, wait," Archer stopped him. "I was meaning to talk to you too, after Trip; since you're here, you might as well stay."

Trip led them to his desk and offered the chair to their CO, who refused it saying, "I'll only be a minute."

"Long-range sensors have detected the wreckage of a ship on one of the continents of an M-class planet," he informed the two officers. "We'll be in orbit around it in about fifteen hours. T'Pol's says the ship is not in the Vulcan database. From what we've been able to ascertain so far, it's been there for a long time, possibly years. There are no biosigns, in or around the wreckage, and the planet appears uninhabited. I want you two to go and take a look around."

"Are there any weapons' signatures on the hull, Sir, or does T'Pol think it was an accident?" Reed enquired with narrowed eyes, his tactical mind already on full alert.

"Ah, we're too far to tell yet, Malcolm," Trip reminded him. "Hold your horses."

Reed squirmed, but then joked, "I thought your favourite expression, Commander, was 'keep your shirt on'," badly imitating Trip's drawl.

Archer chuckled. It was nice to see Malcolm in a lighter mood again.

"Capt'n, you _are_ sure you want _the two of us_ on an away mission _together_," Trip insinuated with a meaningful look. "That you want your 'Disaster Twins', 'Terrible Twos', and 'Duo of Doom' together away from the ship," he insisted, stressing the names Malcolm and he had earned themselves for their countless misadventures.

"You two get hurt or mess up this time and I'll put you in the brig and throw away the key," Archer playfully threatened.

Malcolm shot Trip an amused glance. "In that case, our fate is sealed," he joked. "I hope you don't mind that I like to read until quite late at night, Commander. But perhaps we can convince the Captain to put us in different cells," he suggested with a resigned sigh.

Archer turned stern eyes on the lieutenant. "Well, no reading tonight, Mr. Reed. And that's an order," he admonished. "It's well past the end of your shifts, you two, so do me a favour: forget about _juices_ and whatever else and hit the sack. I want you in perfect shape tomorrow," he concluded, turning to leave.

"Aye, Sir," his officers answered without much enthusiasm.

Once the Captain was out of hearing range, Trip turned to Malcolm and cast him an uneasy glance. "So, how do you propose we manage that?"

Malcolm smirked. "Manage what, Trip, sleeping in the same cell?" he jested.

Trip rolled his eyes. "Manage to carry out this mission in such a way that we _won't_ end up in the same cell."

They began to make their way to their quarters. Trip poked his index finger into Malcolm's shoulder, "You are the tactical officer, so figure it out."

"I'm afraid no amount of tactical and strategic thinking will ever overcome the odds against us, they're just too great," Reed grimly declared, leaving no room for doubt. "Besides, you're the one who always gets us into trouble, so don't ask _me_ to find a way to prevent disaster!"

The two continued their light-hearted argument till they had to separate.

* * *

"These are the landing coordinates, Commander," T'Pol said, offering a padd to Trip, who accepted it and began to study it. "The planet is quite lush, and the closest clearing to the wreckage I could find is about four kilometres away. The hike, however, does not appear to be overly demanding. The atmosphere is breathable and the temperature around 28 degrees Celsius, with 90 percent humidity. You won't have to wear your EV suits."

"That's one piece of good news," Trip commented.

Then the Vulcan turned to Reed. "I scanned the planet and found that it supports no animal life bigger than a medium-size dog, Lieutenant. But I cannot be sure whether any of the species are dangerous to humans. I suggest you carry side arms at all times," she concluded, putting her arms behind her back.

There was a burst of laughter. "As if you need to tell him that!" Trip erupted.

Reed nodded to the Subcommander and bit back an acid reply. Trip really liked to test his patience sometimes, but this time he'd make sure the Commander would not get them into trouble. He wasn't at all certain that Archer wouldn't literally throw them in the brig if things went wrong. _And Starfleet's endurance training did not prepare me for anything as strenuous as sharing living quarters with a certain Mr. Tucker, _he mulled.

"I believe you have already talked to Captain Archer," the Subcommander continued. "Therefore, if you have no questions, you may leave as soon as you are ready," she concluded, raising her eyebrows in that characteristic mannerism of hers.

"No questions from me. What about you, Lieutenant?" Trip asked.

"None," Reed replied.

"Very well, then. Dismissed," T'Pol said.

"Great. I'll be in the launchbay in ten minutes," Trip told Malcolm with a sunny grin. "Don't be late," he chimed, knowing perfectly well that the lieutenant would be there with time to spare.

"Aye, _Sir_," Reed replied, with strained politeness.

T'Pol started to walk away from the situation room, and Malcolm followed Trip, heading for the turbolift. As they passed behind the temporarily vacant Captain's chair, Travis turned and gave them one of his disturbingly childish grins, mouthing "Good luck!"

Trip rolled his eyes and Malcolm scowled. The whole ship was probably placing bets on which of them would end up stuck in sickbay the longest after this mission.

The two officers entered the lift and heard Hoshi wish them, with mock innocence, "Have fun, Commander, Lieutenant! And be careful down there!"

The lift's doors closed on their grunts of frustration.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

222

Trip carved a large curve with the shuttlepod, approaching his landing coordinates. "There is the clearing. Right where it's supposed to be," he cheerfully announced.

"Why, did you have any doubts about T'Pol's instructions?" Malcolm asked. "You're forgetting that she is a fine officer."

Trip laughed. "Hey, let's not discuss T'Pol right now. Or I might get distracted and crash-land. Besides, this is Shuttlepod _Two_ and we have no bourbon. Or did you secretly stash some?"

"Forget what I said," the lieutenant hastened to reply, "Just keep your concentration. Let's at least try and get this mission off to a good start."

As soon as the pod had touched down safely, Tucker began the shut down procedure, while Reed went to gather their equipment. He got their backpacks, which were prepared and ready, and phase pistols for himself and the commander.

The two men stepped out of the hatch and an eerie silence enveloped them. They both stood still for a moment, studying their surroundings.

"So many trees and not a single bird," Malcolm wondered aloud as he scrutinised the lush vegetation. Aside from some odd colours, the forest looked very much like something you might find on Earth.

Trip shrugged. "Could be a good thing," he chuckled. "One thing less for you to worry about. With our luck, they'd have probably been carnivorous monsters lookin' for ways to expand their menu."

Then he closed the shuttlepod hatch and took out his communicator, flipping it open.

"Tucker to Enterprise."

"How are you doing, Commander?" Archer's voice replied at once.

"We just parked the car, Capt'n, and are about to set off on our little promenade. Talk to you when we reach the wreckage."

"Understood. Archer out."

Reed raised his scanner and moved it in a circular motion around them.

"It appears that we're indeed all alone," he said, confirming T'Pol's information. "At least for the time being," he mumbled to himself as an afterthought.

"How romantic," Trip joked. "Come on, Lieutenant, here is your backpack. We have a nice little walk ahead of us and something tells me that you'd rather lead the way."

Malcolm chose to ignore the teasing and hoisted the rather heavy pack onto his back; then, with a glance at his padd for direction, he started resolutely towards the edge of the forest.

The terrain wasn't very rough, but the going was slow on account of the lush vegetation. The air, as T'Pol had mentioned, was heavily laden with humidity, and after about forty minutes of trudging in the undergrowth the two men were drenched in sweat.

Trip grunted and grabbed Malcolm by an arm. "Hey, Mal, can't we stop for a minute? We don't get a prize for gettin' there a few minutes earlier, you know?" he grumbled.

Malcolm turned, a smirk playing on his face. "Is the air too dry for you, Commander? Or is it walking on these sandy dunes that you find exhausting?"

Trip chuckled and unburdened himself of the backpack. Then he got the water out and took a long swig, leaning heavily with his back against a tree.

"You oughtta see yourself, Lieutenant, you look like you just took a shower without removin' your uniform."

Malcolm groaned and put down his pack as well, more than a little glad – not that he'd ever admit it – to take a short rest. If anything, he was the one who was likely to suffer more in this sort of climate. As far as he was concerned, water – be it on the ground or in the air – was something to be avoided at all costs.

Trip consulted his padd. "Accordin' to T'Pol's scans soon we'll be goin' downhill," he stated after a moment.

"Don't move, Commander," Malcolm replied, in that low tone of voice Trip had learnt to recognise as meaning 'danger'.

Tucker tensed and lifted his gaze, trying to keep his body still. He noticed that Malcolm's eyes were fixed on the bark of the tree behind him, on a spot a few inches above his head, and saw the lieutenant slowly reach for his phase pistol.

"What the…"

Malcolm lifted an arm to cut him off. "There is lizard-like animal a couple of inches above your head," he explained, still in that creepy, baritone pitch of his.

Trip saw Reed raise the pistol and take aim. "What do you think you're doing?" he choked out, his eyes wide with alarm.

He noticed Reed squirm at the interruption but right then he couldn't care less about hurting his friend's feelings and charged on, in an urgent whisper, "Not that I don't trust your shootin' skills, _Lieutenant_, but a couple of inches don't sound like much of a margin for error, and this is my head we're talking about. I like it just the way it is."

Malcolm clamped down on his irritation. "Are you challenging me, _Sir_? Or perhaps you intend to wait and find out whether our little friend's jaws are lined with poisonous fangs," he said in a low grumble, as he straightened his arm out again and squeezed one eye shut.

"No to both questions! Besides, are you sure you're supposed to kill the fauna of this planet?" Trip insisted, starting to fidget.

"Who said anything about kill? The pistol is set on stun," Malcolm quietly answered. "Keep still, for heaven's sake!"

A second later a red beam cut the still air and Trip felt a weight fall on top of him. He leapt forward, violently shaking his head, but the weight – the lizard he guessed – seemed to be holding onto his hair for dear life.

"Get this damn thing off me!" he hollered, not daring to touch it with his bare hands.

Malcolm hesitated for a fraction of a second; then threw his lighter frame hard against his friend, tackling him. They both fell hard to the ground and the abrupt jolt was enough to dislodge the creature from Trip's head. The lieutenant, who had already rolled onto his knees, quickly aimed again and fired.

* * *

"Captain, I've detected discharge from a phase pistol on the planet," T'Pol's calm voice stated.

"Are you sure?" Archer enquired with a frown.

"Quite," the Vulcan replied.

* * *

Tucker turned and saw what looked vaguely like a large, brownish chameleon lying near him. "Uhgh!" he exclaimed with a shudder and a grimace of disgust, "Reptile-like creatures have always given me the creeps."

"It didn't bite or scratch you, did it?" Malcolm asked with a note of concern in his voice.

Tucker regarded him suspiciously for a moment.

"Why the hell didn't this -- whatever it's called -- fall stunned the first time you fired, Malcolm?" he enquired after a moment, studying the lieutenant with narrowed eyes.

There were a few seconds of silence.

"You didn't answer my question, Trip: did it bite or scratch you?" Reed questioned again.

"And you didn't answer mine, _Lieutenant_: why was the creature still alive and well after you fired at it the first time?" the engineer retorted firmly.

Trip's adamant tone of voice and use of rank obtained the desired effect.

Reed cleared his throat and suggested, "It might be because this alien creature is more resilient than I thought…"

"Or..." Trip prompted, reading unease in Malcolm's eyes.

Reed scowled. "Or because your fretting, Commander, made the blasted thing move just as I pulled the trigger; and, as if that weren't enough, this _bloody_ humidity made sweat drip in my eyes!"

"Aw _gawd_!" Tucker exclaimed after a moment of stunned silence, "That thing was only two inches above my _head_!" he growled, "Do you realise that…"

A chirp interrupted his tirade. He reached for his communicator.

"Tucker," he answered, trying to stifle his irritation.

"Trip," Archer's anxious voice crackled through. "Is everything alright? We detected weapon's fire near your biosigns."

"Ah, nothin' to worry about, Capt'n," Tucker reassured him, with a level look at Reed, "Our Armoury Officer just stunned a lizard that wanted to camp on my head."

"You're both ok then?" the Captain enquired.

"Yup, both in perfect health," Trip said with forced cheerfulness. _As long as Mal here keeps his pistol aimed at anything but me_, he added to himself.

"It's good to hear that," the Captain replied, with an audible sigh of relief. "Talk to you later, then. Archer out."

Trip flipped the communicator shut and turned to Malcolm. He glared at him for a moment, then got up and held out his arm to the lieutenant, who, after a slight hesitation, accepted it gratefully. Trip smirked and pulled Reed to his feet.

"Come on, Buffalo Bill, we'll never get to that ship if we sit here arguing."

Malcolm chuckled. "Sorry about… uhm, you know…" he offered, in a conciliatory tone.

"Ah, forget it, Malcolm. The important thing is that we are still holding out against TUSAM."

"TUSAM?" Reed enquired, puzzled.

"The Unlucky Star of Away Missions," Trip replied with a wink.

Bursting into a liberating laughter, they shouldered their backpacks and marched on.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

333

"You didn't tell me we'd have to cross a lake," Malcolm commented in a tone of voice that held a slight note of complaint.

"What am I, your mother? It's right there on your padd: you _do_ have a padd, remember?"

After a winding downhill stretch, they were now at the bottom of a wide valley, in front of a body of water that was oblong in shape and not very wide across. On the other side of it they could see, in the distance, the ship's wreckage.

"I know it's on the padd, I'm not blind," Reed bit back. "You just didn't say anything about _crossing_ it! I'd assumed we'd walk around it."

"Come on, Malcolm! You mean to tell me you'd rather walk another – what – two kilometres rather than wade across some five hundred metres of shallow water?" Trip asked, with amused disbelief.

Malcolm didn't answer and went up to the detested element, holding his scanner in front of him. He _so_ hoped he'd find the lake swarming with dangerous wildlife! But no, these waters were as dead as a dodo.

"So, anythin' we should worry about?" Trip asked.

Reed briefly contemplated lying, but his integrity wouldn't let him.

"There doesn't appear to be one sodding living organism in these waters," he replied grimly while he silently chastised himself, _damn you, stop being such a bloody weakling._

"What are you afraid of," Trip joked. "We can't get any wetter than we already are. In fact it will actually be quite refreshin'. Might even take a swim later on, if there's time."

Reed just grunted.

Trip eyed his colleague. "What's the matter, Malcolm?" he enquired, perplexed.

"Nothing. You don't like deserts, I don't like water. That's all," Malcolm replied matter-of-factly, even though if someone had taken a scan of his innards now they'd have seen a lovely, inextricable knot.

Trip studied him for a moment, intrigued, then shrugged and said, "We'll be on the other side before you have time to take a dislike to it. The scanner shows that the water is mostly only deep enough to reach our waist. Come on, Lieutenant, after you."

Malcolm clenched his teeth and stepped in hesitantly. He felt the damn liquid seep into his boots and then gradually envelop his legs in a creepy embrace, but bit his lip and bravely trod on.

_Bloody hell! I am serving on a starship – a STARship, like in space, cosmos, universe – what am I doing wading through a sodding lake, _he silently bemoaned.

Trip followed him, more than a little puzzled at Reed's suddenly heavy mood.

The water was now waist deep and Reed clamped down on his rising anxiety. He took a couple of deep, calming breaths, focusing on the distance that separated him from the other side. He could hear Tucker chattering behind him, but couldn't make out any of the words: all his senses were concentrated ahead.

Sensing Malcolm's discomfort, Trip was trying to distract the lieutenant with some idle talk. Looking around at the lush vegetation he asked, "This place wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the humidity, don't you think?"

When there was no answer he turned again and gasped: where Malcolm had been just a moment before now was a concentric series of ripples.

"Malcolm!" he screamed, not knowing what to think.

Malcolm had taken another step and found that the bottom of the lake was not there any more. For some crazy reason – nerves, he guessed – he almost burst into hysterical laughter: who else if not he could walk into the one spot where the water seemed bottomless? Then he felt himself sink deeper and deeper, and thought it would be a better idea to use the air left in his lungs to try and save his skin. _Keep your wits together_, he admonished himself. He kicked his legs frantically in an effort to work against the force that was pulling him down, but felt them get tangled in something – probably weeds – and the carefully controlled panic immediately swelled up.

Trip looked at his scanner. "Damn!" he cursed. Reed had fallen into some sort of deep pit. _The man can swim_, he reassured himself. But when, after five seconds, his friend had not re-emerged, he began to feel quite worried. He pocketed the scanner, took a deep breath and let himself drop underwater, opening his eyes wide to try and spot the blue Starfleet uniform.

Malcolm felt his lungs burn. 'Deep breaths will help contain a panic attack' his doctor, back on earth, had drilled him. _Brilliant! Try and do that under water!_ Then, quite unexpectedly, panic was overpowered by another emotion: anger. _I won't bloody die like a stupid fool in a damn puddle in the middle of a sodding alien planet light years away from the cursed Royal Navy!_

He pulled wildly at whatever was anchoring him down and blessedly succeeded in getting his legs free. But the effort had burnt up almost all of his remaining oxygen, and his vision began to blur. He was about to surrender to darkness when he caught the most beautiful sight: a hand reaching out for him. With the last of his strength he stretched his own arm towards it and latched on for dear life.

Trip saw Malcolm struggle and then, as he was reaching out to him, felt his friend's hand grab his. It pulled him down with a force born of despair, and for a few long moments the engineer was powerless, the lighter man suddenly seeming to weigh a ton. He felt his lungs scream for air and his fear escalate. But then either Malcolm realised that he just had to let himself be saved or he had no more energy left to thrash about, for all of a sudden he seemed to relax.

Trip quickly pulled him towards himself and grasped him under the arms, dragging him towards the surface. After what seemed like ages they finally emerged gulping for air, and Tucker heard Reed suck it in as if he'd never breathed before in his life. Then his friend's body went limp in his arms and Trip half swam, half staggered to shore hauling him along. A few minutes later they were both lying on the grassy bank, panting.

* * *

"Where are Trip and Malcolm, T'Pol?" Archer asked, trying to make it sound as a routine enquiry.

The Vulcan checked her monitor. "They just crossed the lake and…"

"Lake?" Archer interrupted her, straining to hide the concern in his voice.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol replied, raising one eyebrow.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Trip asked, after he had caught his breath a little.

Malcolm's breathing was still quite laboured and the lieutenant took his time before answering him darkly, "All of a sudden I was in deep water, and my feet got tangled in some weeds."

Trip turned onto his side and faced him. Reed looked pale and was shivering slightly, and kept his eyes averted from him.

"Malcolm…" He hesitated a moment, then continued, "When you say you don't like water… you don't like water as in 'I'd-rather-take-a-walk-in-the-country-than-a-swim-in-the-sea' or …"

For the second time he was interrupted by a chirp. This time it came from Reed's communicator, and the lieutenant groaned and reached into his arm pocket for it.

"Reed here," he said, hating the wavering, croaking sound that was his voice.

"Malcolm," Archer answered, "T'Pol saw your biosigns crossing a rather large expanse of water…"

The Captain left the question unspoken and Reed was grateful for it. He may have got more open in the past couple of years, but that didn't mean he wanted everybody to know everything about him, his aqua-phobia being one of the irrelevant details he'd rather keep to himself. It was bad enough that he'd told Archer, but at that moment he'd thought his time had come.

"Correct, Sir. It was more like marshland than anything else," Reed explained managing, between rasping breaths, a steadier voice. "We, uhm, got to the other side and now are only about a kilometre away from the wreckage."

There was a pause at the other end, as if Archer were processing the information and/or trying to read between the lines.

"Good," he said eventually. "Everything else all right?" he asked noncommittally.

"Yes, Captain," Malcolm replied, much in the same tone of voice. "Commander Tucker will contact you when we reach our destination."

"Acknowledged. Archer out."

Reed put the communicator away and pushed himself to a sitting position. Trip followed suit and they remained in silence for a few moments.

"You know Malcolm, with a family name like yours marshlands oughtta make you feel at home," the engineer finally joked, glad to see that his friend seemed to be feeling better.

"I'll be damned if they'll ever do," Malcolm replied with a humourless smirk. "The only water I'll ever enjoy is the one coming out of a shower," he firmly declared.

"I guess the Capt'n is real worried about us," Trip commented with a chuckle. "He keeps makin' sure that we're still in one piece."

Malcolm smiled weakly. "It would appear so, yes. Although he needn't be concerned: Away Team 2 - TUSAM 0," he tallied, raising two fingers in one hand and designing a zero with the other.

Trip began to laugh but then stopped, as he saw Reed turn unexpectedly serious again.

The lieutenant winced and said, "Thank you for, uhm, delaying my untimely journey to the other side."

"You're welcome," Trip replied sincerely, studying Reed's eyes. "Nothing you haven't already done for me at least half a dozen times," he added.

"I almost pulled you down with me… I'm awfully sorry about that," Malcolm murmured, blushing.

Trip was intrigued. He sensed there was something left unspoken, but decided not to pry.

He joked, "It's already the second time you've apologised to me today, Lieutenant. I thought you said that it was _always_ _me_ who got us into trouble on away missions."

"This, then, must be an exception to the rule," Reed promptly answered, a roguish grin swiftly chasing away his troubles. "Shall we?" he then asked, jerking his head in the direction of the wrecked ship.

"Ready when you are."

They got up, hauling their packs, and resumed walking.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

444

"So, what do you make of it? Any weapons' signatures on the hull?" Tucker asked as he slowly walked around the ship, scanner in hand.

"None. This ship most definitely crashed because of a malfunction," Malcolm replied.

The vessel was not big. It came to maybe twice the length of their shuttlepods but measured about the same in height, which gave it a rather flattened appearance.

"Have you dated it, Commander?" Malcolm asked, switching to professional mode.

"Doin' it right now," Trip answered, his gaze concentrated on the scanner. He whistled in surprise making Malcolm turn to him.

"This baby is about one hundred and thirty years' old," the engineer exclaimed. "Whoever crashed it is long gone."

He got out his communicator and hailed Enterprise. "Tucker to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Commander," Archer answered.

"We've reached the ship, Capt'n. Looks like it was an accident and that it happened a hell of a long time ago. My readings show the vessel is 130 years old."

"Can you go inside it?" the Captain enquired.

"We'll try, although I can see that we were beaten to it by the vegetation; there are a couple of large breaches in the hull at bow. I'll keep you posted. Tucker out."

"Commander, I seriously doubt we'll be able to gain access through those breaches," Reed commented, shaking his head. "They're almost completely obstructed by plants."

"I wasn't planning on doin' that," Trip grinned, "We'll enter in style, Lieutenant, through the front door. There is the hatch."

He put his backpack down on the ground, opened it and took out some tools. Twenty minutes later he and Malcolm were peeking inside the dark interior of the alien vessel.

The plants had wound their way inside the ship making the space cramped. Malcolm crawled in, phase pistol in one hand, scanner in the other, while the engineer swept the vessel with his flashlight. After a few minutes he turned to Trip and nodded. The engineer climbed on board.

Where the cockpit had been was now an inextricable tangle of plants. The thick vegetation had even taken root in the consoles, making any data retrieval a lost cause. The back of the ship, instead, was somewhat freer, and that is where the two officers headed.

"Strange that there should be no biological remains at all," Malcolm wondered aloud, as he put away his phase pistol and switched on his own torch. "Even if this ship crashed a hundred years ago and the bodies decomposed, our scanners ought to pick up traces of them."

"Maybe they got transported out," Trip suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"That hatch," Malcolm said after a minute, pointing to a spot on the floor, "Probably led down to where the engine room was. The impact, however, was certainly violent enough that it was crushed completely," he commented wryly, as he tried rather unsuccessfully to wipe sweat out of his eyes with a wet sleeve.

"Better believe it. Flattened it like a pancake," Trip concurred grimly. "This ship looks more like a small transport vessel than a warship or anything else." He added, "It was probably manned by no more than four or five people."

Malcolm nodded. They went quietly about taking scans for a few minutes; then Reed said, "I'm afraid there isn't much here left for us to…"

"Hey, what's that?" Trip interrupted him. He took a few quick steps to the far back and raised his flashlight on a button. It had caught his attention because it was gleaming in the semi-darkness like a cat's eye.

The commander raised his hand to it. Immediately, with a sound of screeching metal, a grid made of what looked like iron bars fell from above, entrapping him in a narrow space at the back of the ship.

"What the hell!" Tucker exclaimed, jumping in alarm.

In a couple of strides Reed was there, pointing his flashlight on Tucker. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah, yeah," Trip muttered, "I must have touched the only mechanical thing that still functions on this damn ship!" he added irritably.

Relieved that his friend was not injured, Malcolm quipped, "You didn't have to go to such lengths to avoid sharing _Enterprise's_ brig with me, Commander!"

Trip scowled. "I wouldn't joke about it if I were you; we might still end up in there if I don't manage to get outta here."

"There must be a command button to undo what the first one did," Malcolm reasoned.

With a groan, Trip shone the flashlight around, but could find nothing.

"I can't see any," he informed the lieutenant, who was scanning the grid.

"These bars are made of an alloy we've never come across," Malcolm remarked pensively. "What about the cat's eye?" he then enquired. "Could it trigger the thing open again, do you think?"

"Hmm, we'll never know unless I try it," Trip answered philosophically. He pushed and fingered the button, but nothing happened. "Damn!" he cursed, leaning against the wall wiping his sweaty brow.

Malcolm studied him and murmured, "Let me get us some water. We are both sweating and dehydration certainly isn't going to help us think."

A moment later he passed a canteen to his friend through the bars. Trip took a few long, avid gulps of liquid. "Thanks," he said gratefully.

Then, after a pause, he added, "Come on, Lieutenant, we can't let TUSAM score."

Reed chuckled. "The bastard seems really determined to catch up with us," he commented, putting down his own canteen and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Let's see if we can raise the barrier at all," Trip suggested. Malcolm nodded.

They grabbed the bars firmly with both hands.

"Now!" Trip ordered. But much as they hauled, the thing would not budge.

"We'll never manage this way," Malcolm panted, leaning his forearms on the grid.

Trip groaned in frustration. _This is absurd, _he mulled, _there must be a way to…_

Suddenly he froze. He had been moving the flashlight around, checking the corners of his confined space, when the light revealed a sight that sent a shiver down his spine. No more than a metre to his right was a huge insect nest swarming with thousands of crawling creatures the size of big ants. The light seemed to disturb them and they scattered away rapidly in all directions.

"Malcolm," he started in a shaky voice.

"I've seen them, Commander," Reed replied in a low tone. He moved his torch slowly across the floor of Trip's cell, revealing more insects scuttling to escape the light.

"Dammit, get me outta this cage _right now_!" Tucker urged, panic rising in his voice as he retreated to the opposite corner.

_How the hell am I going to do that?_ Reed wondered, striving not to get affected by Trip's mounting anxiety.He couldn't just shoot thousands of blighted insects. _Keep cool under pressure_, he reminded himself as he studied the situation.

"Breathe deeply, it helps keep panic under control," he advised, his voice calm and collected.

"Oh, really?" he heard Trip reply with a hint of sarcasm, "And what does 'Lieutenant Courage' know about panic?"

"You'd be surprised," Malcolm mumbled, momentarily distracted from the problem at hand. Then he shut everything out and let his racing mind work.

Soon a plan of some intelligence began to form: _if you can't defeat the enemy, withdraw. _His pistol may be of no use against so many insects, but there was a chance the beam might cut through the bars.

"I'm going to try and cut the bars with the phase pistol," Reed stated with determination. "Give me some light, Commander."

Trip promptly obeyed, trying to keep his mind off the picture of the creepy bugs spreading out in all directions – surely some must be crawling around his feet right now.

"Stand back, I'm setting the pistol to a rather high yield," Malcolm warned him.

Reed aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger, and a familiar orange beam shone through the air. The lieutenant kept it focused on the bars for a few moments, then cut off the power and went to check the results.

"It's definitely doing something. Maximum yield might just do the job. Don't move."

"You don't need to worry about that," Trip commented in a tense voice.

Malcolm changed setting on his pistol and directed the powerful beam on the bars again. After a few moments they began to turn red hot and wisps of acrid smoke rose in the air. Reed clenched his jaw and moved the pistol slowly down in a straight line.

Soon the place was filling with smoke, and Trip began to cough. "Cut that off, Malcolm," he managed between fits, "Stuff's chokin' me!"

Reed lowered his pistol. He too was coughing now, his mouth and nose in the crook of one arm. The lieutenant walked up to the grid and gave it a hard kick. Some of the junctions broke off, much to his relief.

"It's working, but if I am to cut an opening I'm afraid we'll have to stand some more of that smoke," Reed choked out.

Trip just nodded jerkily.

The armoury officer stood back and a moment later the hot beam was focused on the grid again.

Trip was closer to the source of the smoke and it didn't take long for the commander to begin coughing again, violently. Malcolm, a little further away, was stoically suppressing his own urge to do the same, determined to keep his aim steady. His eyes were watering and his vision began to blur, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. _Just a little more…_

After what seemed like ages, he finally lowered his weapon, doubled over and allowed himself to surrender to the tickling and burning in his throat. But worrisome choking noises from behind the grid made him spring up again and stagger forward.

The lieutenant kicked the grid furiously and a few more junctions came apart. _Too bloody slowly_, he silently cursed, feeling for the second time in that blasted day a lack of oxygen in his lungs.

"Why don't you make yourself useful for once and help me get this off!" Reed croaked out. He immediately regretted his angered tone: Trip seemed unable to catch his breath and he saw him push off the wall with a visible effort.

"Don't touch it with your hands," Malcolm rasped in warning, "Just help me kick it off."

Under the force of both their strikes the piece of grid finally gave out and Tucker quickly staggered through the opening, coughing uncontrollably. Reed wasted no time in following him and a moment later they were in the open air.

Malcolm leaned against the ship to catch his breath and checked Trip over. The engineer stood not far away, his eyes closed and his hands braced on his knees, and was trying to bring his fits under control. What Reed saw made him cringe.

"Trip, your legs!" he cried out.

Trip's eyes flew open and widened in horror: his trousers were covered with insects. He shot up from his bent over position, but before he had even the time to scream, Malcolm was beating his lower body with a large, palm-like branch, shaking the ant-like creatures off him.

* * *

"I do not detect any biosigns bigger than an insect near them, Captain," T'Pol said.

"Still, you did detect phaser fire," Archer insisted.

"I did," T'Pol simply confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

"It's probably nothing," Archer stated. "A phase pistol can be used for many things, like that time I warmed up some stones to boil water in the desert."

* * *

"I hope you don't intend to write in your report that I beat a superior officer," Reed joked, grateful for the pure air that finally filled his lungs to capacity.

It had taken some doing, but in the end the enemy had been pushed back. To their relief the insects had not seemed of a dangerous kind, for Trip had not complained of any bites or stings.

"Are you suggesting that I should leave things out of my report, Lieutenant? That I should _lie_?" Trip answered in mock outrage.

The rush of adrenaline had left them both exhausted, and they had collapsed onto the grass, glad to allow themselves a rest.

"I believe that's not how an officer at his best, let alone a gentleman, is supposed to behave," the engineer continued, teasing his by-the-book friend.

Malcolm shook his head in amusement. Just then Trip's communicator came alive.

The engineer rolled his eyes and sighed. "Mom is checking on us again." He flipped open his communicator. "Tucker."

"Commander," Archer's voice said, "We detected a phase pistol in action again. Anything we should worry about?"

"Nope, we're both alive and well, Capt'n. Lieutenant Reed was just cutting through some… sort of grid," Trip replied with a conniving glance at Malcolm. Then he enquired candidly, "Do I detect a note of concern in your voice? Don't tell me that you don't trust us to come back from this mission in one piece!"

"Just checking, Commander," Archer replied in his Captain voice, ignoring Trip's teasing. "Have you found anything of interest inside that ship?"

"Not really. We've taken quite a few scans, though. Oughtta give us some clues."

"Are you ready to head back, then?" Archer enquired.

"Aye, Sir. We have a bit of a climb ahead of us; should be at the shuttlepod in about one and a half hours," Tucker calculated.

"Hail us when you get there, Commander. Archer out."

The engineer flipped his communicator shut.

Malcolm was preparing to get up when he caught Trip's uncomfortable gaze on him. "Is something wrong?" he enquired, frowning.

Tucker paused and then replied, with a grimace, "I suppose I _could've_ used a bit more caution. Sorry, Lieutenant."

"Apology accepted, Commander," Reed reassured him, with a good-natured smirk. Then he suggested, "You know, those insects were probably more scared of you than you were of them."

"I've always hated reptiles and bugs," Trip shuddered.

Malcolm contemplated Trip's comment. "Why, Trip, I rather thought those two classes of creatures would make a Floridian feel _at home_," he remarked with a chuckle.

"Getting' back at me, huh? Alright, fair enough," Tucker commented, patting his friend's shoulder. "Come on," he added, getting up, "Can't wait till I'm on Enterprise, under a hot shower."

Trip went to put his tools inside his pack. Then the two men shouldered their loads and, with a last look at the wrecked vessel, started on their way back.

"Trip, you're taking the wrong direction," Malcolm said, with an odd look at his friend.

"Nope," the engineer replied, "We're walking _around_ the marshland this time."

"There is no reason to do that, Commander," Reed commented. "You said it yourself, walking around it makes it a lot longer."

"Not by much, if we cut across from here and then take a diagonal route back to the shuttlepod," Trip retorted.

"I can wade across the bloody lake," Malcolm insisted, unable to keep a hurt note from his voice.

Trip regarded him curiously. "I know you can, but we are both real tired and I don't want to risk another accident," he patiently explained.

"If we use the scanner there is no danger of…"

"Look, Lieutenant," Tucker interrupted, stopping and turning to face Reed squarely, "We are walking around the damn lake and that's an order."

Malcolm clenched his teeth and held his CO's gaze with steely eyes. "Aye, _Sir_," he replied coolly.

Trip scowled at him. Then, as he so often did, allowed his features to relax.

"Ah, come on Mal!" he said shaking his head, "We're up 3-0 against TUSAM, and neither of us got as much as a damn scratch!"

Malcolm sighed, his own anger vanished. "Fine, Trip. But I hope you are aware that from a statistical point of view we'd be much safer crossing the lake again."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

555

"That looks rather steep," Reed commented thoughtfully.

They had come to the point of their journey where they were going to have and climb back up to the top of the valley. But their change of route meant that they were now facing a barren gorge, scattered with big boulders and loose rocks.

Trip studied the craggy incline. It would be tiring but not impossible.

"That time with those Denobulan scientists we managed some rather difficult climbin'," he replied, sounding determined. "In comparison this looks like nothin' more than a rough hike." He smiled encouragingly. "Piece of cake."

Malcolm did not answer immediately. He tilted his head, pensively; then he unloaded his pack and reached inside it to get a nutrient bar, which he waved before his friend.

"A piece of pineapple cake would be very welcome now. I don't know about you, Commander, but my stomach has been pestering me for the past half hour. If you expect me to have the energy to get to the top of that," he said jerking his head in the direction of the gorge, "I'll have to eat something first."

Trip followed suit and put down his pack. "You know, Lieutenant, you do manage sometimes to come up with a few ideas worthy of consideration."

"Do you mind if I take the lead?" the engineer asked a few moments later, as they were consuming their meagre but nutritious meal.

Malcolm considered the question. "I suppose not," he replied, "I'm no expert when it comes to climbing; as for security, it shouldn't make any difference whether I go first or last. Out in the open threats can come from all sides."

Trip bit his lip, refraining from teasing his friend over his proverbial 'paranoid way of thinking'. At the beginning of their mission he had done that a lot, but things had changed. Reed had saved their day on a few too many occasions, and now when he pulled Malcolm's leg over his seemingly exaggerated caution he did it more to keep a well-established joke going than for anything else.

Soon they were shouldering their backpacks again and ready to tackle the climb.

* * *

"Bloody humidity!" Malcolm cursed under his breath, wiping a dirty hand across his brow as he gained yet another metre of altitude. Everything was seeped in it making the earthy ground and rocks muddy and slippery.

The climb was proving quite strenuous and more difficult than they had anticipated, requiring them to use their hands for balance. Trip glanced over his shoulder. He could not remember ever seeing Malcolm so dirty and dishevelled and he knew just how much this rubbed his friend the wrong way.

"Do you reckon that if Hoshi saw us now she would still say that men in uniform are attractive?" he bantered, trying to lighten Reed's mood.

"Uniform?" Malcolm snorted, between ragged breaths, "What uniform? I wasn't aware I was wearing a uniform, I thought it was a mud cast," he commented wryly.

Trip chuckled. A thin mist had risen, giving an eerie look to their surroundings and preventing them from seeing clearly beyond a certain distance.

"Just a few more metres, as far as I can tell," Tucker informed him.

"Never too few," Reed grunted. He paused and tried to wipe sweat out of his eyes with a dirty sleeve, swearing when he realised the stupidity of his action.

"I know now why you wanted to take the lead, Commander," he called out. "I'm literally getting covered with the dirt your boots dislodge."

"Sorry." Trip sounded sincerely apologetic. "If you want, you're welcome to…"

"What's that noise?" Reed said, interrupting him.

They both fell silent and turned their heads towards the top of the hill, where a drumming sound was distinctly getting louder. Before they knew it, one, ten, fifty shadows were emerging out of the mist, running headlong towards them.

"Get out of the way!" Trip bellowed, and both began to scamper to try and get to the edge of the ravine, slipping and sliding perilously in the effort. In a moment dozens of four-legged, furry creatures the size of overgrown rabbits were upon them, stampeding along.

"Too late!" Malcolm shouted, and flattened himself against the ground, his arms over his head to protect it. He felt paws press on his back and silently prayed _Let's hope none of the damn things have hooves!_ They were not very big, but there was an awful lot of them.

Reed risked a side glance towards his friend and saw that Trip was still trying to reach the edge of the gorge. "Trip, don't!" he cried out. He saw a few creatures swerve abruptly to avoid him, but then the wave was too much and they collided into the engineer throwing him off balance. In horror, Malcolm saw Trip lose his footing and begin to slide.

_Rolling down a rocky gorge in the middle of a stampede is not a good way to keep out of sickbay, _he thought in concern. He threw out one arm and managed to get a strong grip on his friend's. He felt a pulling jolt on his shoulder and flung out his other arm in search of something to grab hold of. He found what felt like solid rock; gratefully, his feet were also firmly anchored and held their ground.

After a moment the engineer managed to regain some footing of his own, and they remained like that, flat against the ground, their faces in the dirt, riding out the wild wave of running creatures for what seemed like ages. Finally the drumming noise subsided and silence gradually returned.

"What the hell was that?" Trip exclaimed hoarsely.

"Are you alright?" Reed enquired after a moment.

"Yeah, all in one piece, apparently," Trip replied, his voice wavering slightly.

"Are you certain?" Malcolm insisted, hearing the note of hesitation in his friend's voice.

Tucker paused, then smiled. "Uhm, yeah, although I might develop an ugly bruise if you don't let go of my arm, Lieutenant: has no one ever told you that you have a vice-like grip?"

Malcolm realised that he was still clasping Trip's arm with crushing strength and immediately released him.

"Not that I didn't appreciate it," Trip hastened to add. "If it weren't for you I'd be a crumpled pile a bones at the bottom of the hill."

There was a moment of silence as Malcolm regarded Trip with narrowed eyes.

"Come on, say it, Commander," he prompted.

Trip was puzzled. "What?"

"That you are _sorry_ you insisted on coming this way," Reed replied sternly.

Wouldn't you know it? Trip just gave him one of his winning smiles and a shrug. "Aw, fine! If it makes you happy, Lieutenant: I'm _sorry_ I insisted on comin' this way!"

Reed shook his head. This man in front of him couldn't be any more different from himself. "Right. Well, now at least we're even, as far as apologies go," he smirked.

"Away Team 4-TUSAM 0," Tucker commented cheerfully. "Not bad, the Capt'n will be impressed."

"We still have to get to the shuttlepod and fly back to Enterprise, Commander. Don't count your chickens before they are hatched," Reed cautioned.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, then?" Trip replied. "Let's get goin' while our luck still holds!"

* * *

"Goodness gracious, you're a mess!" Archer couldn't refrain from exclaiming as he set eyes on his officers. He had come to meet them in the launchbay with T'Pol and had not expected the sorry sight that was before him.

Malcolm and Trip shot an appraising glance at each other. They looked disgusting and smelled even worse.

Trip noticed O'Rourke's look of disbelief as the ensign skirted well away from them on his way to the shuttlepod for post-flight check; and T'Pol wrinkled her sensitive nose. He felt truly sorry for her.

"Nothing that a long, hot shower cannot remedy," he said with a wide smile that cracked the dry mud mask on his face. "The good news, Capt'n, is that we have come back unscathed."

"That _is _news!" Archer replied with a chuckle. "I guess the brig will have to wait, then."

"Welcome back, Commander, Lieutenant," T'Pol managed to say. "It is agreeable to… know that your mission was successful."

"I thought you were gonna say 'agreeable to _see_ us', Subcommander. But I reckon we aren't the prettiest sight right now," Trip couldn't help teasing. T'Pol just latched her hands behind her back and ignored the gibe.

"Well, I don't know how much of a success our mission actually was," the engineer continued, as they headed towards decon. "We couldn't salvage any data. Let's hope our scans shed a bit of light on the mystery of that ship."

"It is possible that they will," the Vulcan calmly replied, keeping a safe distance from the reeking officers. "Although we will not know until we examine them."

"Talk about statin' the obvious," Trip laughed.

Archer shot him a reproachful glance. Then he saw Reed scratch his neck. The usually pristine Armoury Officer looked so uncomfortable under a thick layer of grime that the Captain took pity on him.

"The sooner you get through decon, the sooner you'll be under a shower," he said in the way of a dismissal. Then he added, with a mischievous grin, "Too bad I didn't bring a camera: Lieutenant Malcolm Reed this filthy really deserved to be immortalised."

"With all due respect, Sir, then I would have had to retrieve all evidence to destroy it," Reed replied, only half joking.

Archer chuckled. "You did a good job, gentlemen. Your shift is just about finished, so why don't you take a good rest."

"Thank you, Sir," they both replied.

Fifteen minutes later a delighted Phlox was giving them a green light. With a sigh of relief the two officers stood up to leave.

"Uhm Trip," Malcolm said seeing his friend head in the wrong direction. "That's the door leading to the launchbay."

"Ah, I just forgot something in the shuttlepod," Trip replied dismissively. "Don't wait for me, Mal, I'm sure you're eager to regain a more human aspect," he concluded with a wink.

Reed groaned. "I certainly am! See you, then." And he went off the other way, towards the sanctuary of his quarters.

* * *

Trip came out of the longest shower he'd taken in ages feeling reborn. He didn't really mind getting dirty – he was bit like a child for that – and his team had got quite accustomed to seeing their CO covered with smudges when he was in the thick of something in engineering. But he also truly enjoyed washing out the dirt and feeling clean again.

He dried off and hesitated for a moment in front of his wardrobe. _The Capt'n told us to rest but perhaps I should check on my engine before goin' to bed… _Then his body reminded him that it had been a long and tiring day, so he got out shorts and a T-shirt. _They'll contact me if anythin' needs my delicate touch, let's get a well-deserved good night's sleep_, he decided, slipping them on.

He sat in his chair and bent over to open the backpack he had previously retrieved from the pod. He rummaged in it and got out a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt. Regarding it with a smile of satisfaction, he gave it a light shake, which did nothing to improve its now greatly wrinkled appearance, and threw it on the desk.

_No amount of strategic thinking may overcome the odds against us, Lieutenant, but my lucky charm managed just that_, he thought smugly. _TUSAM was finally, completely and officially defeated, the rat!_

A yawn took him by surprise. _Uhm, I guess I'm more wiped than I thought. _

He let himself drop on the bed and ordered the lights off.

* * *

Malcolm came out of the longest shower he'd taken in ages feeling reborn. Getting dirty unsettled him to the very core – it always had, ever since he was a child – and his team had got quite accustomed to the fact that even in the thick of battle their CO would be spotless, if he could at all help it. Washing out the dirt and feeling clean again made him feel almost euphoric.

He dried off and hesitated for a moment in front of his wardrobe. _The Captain told us to rest but perhaps I_ _should drop by the armoury before turning in… _Then his body reminded him that it had been a long and tiring day, so he got out shorts and a T-shirt. _They'll contact me if anything needs my supervision, let's get a few hours of well-deserved rest_, he decided, slipping them on.

He sat in his chair and leaned over to reach for his filthy uniform that lay crumpled in a corner on the floor. He picked it up with two fingers, keeping it at arm's length, and before dropping it into the laundry container, unzipped a pocket and retrieved a small, ordinary-looking stone from it. He regarded it for a moment, turning it in his fingers; then with a smirk, threw it inside a drawer.

_Not that I believe in lucky charms, _he reminded himself as he closed the drawer, _but_ _who knows_… _that stone might just have managed what no amount of strategic thinking ever could. I wish I could remember the name of the girl who gave it to me in elementary school. Well, lucky charm or not, TUSAM was finally, completely and officially defeated, the sod._

A yawn took him by surprise. _Uhm, I suppose I could call it a day._

He let himself drop on the bed and ordered the lights off.

TBC

What... no sickbay?... Hm... :-)


	6. Chapter 6

6

Reed relished the feeling of his muscles gradually relaxing and his weight sinking into the mattress, and was just drifting off to sleep when the comm. sounded.

With a groan he forced his eyes open again and rolled off the bed. He promptly tripped over his boots, cursing himself for foregoing his nightly routine of tidying things up, and stumbled over to the desk, finally reaching the link.

"Reed," he choked out, hoping this call wouldn't mean danger and a sleepless night.

"Malcolm," Trip's voice answered. "Would you mind coming to my quarters, I – ah – need your assistance." He sounded suspiciously mellifluous.

"Trip, it's late and I'm knackered. In fact, you practically woke me up. What on earth do you need me for, tuck you in bed?" Malcolm replied petulantly.

There was a pause.

"Trip?" Reed grunted, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Uhm, let's say I need you in your capacity of Security Officer, Malcolm," Tucker answered hesitantly.

Malcolm's pulse automatically accelerated, as his mind conjured up a dozen different undesirable scenarios.

"What's happening?" he enquired tensely.

Trip must have heard the note of alarm in his voice, for he hastened to add, "Wait, it's not what you think; I mean, I haven't been taken hostage and the ship hasn't been boarded by hostile aliens."

"Damn you, you've just sent half a litre of adrenaline through my veins!" Reed complained. "What's the problem, then?"

"Look, it would be easier if you just came to my quarters, _Lieutenant_," Trip insisted. "And don't forget your phase pistol."

The comm. went dead, and Reed pinched his nose. Tucker had clearly made that an order. Besides, even if it didn't sound like a critical situation, he couldn't ignore the fact that Trip's request obviously had some security implications.

He opened the wardrobe and got out his pistol; he briefly considered changing into something that would make him feel less naked, but if this _was_ a matter of security he shouldn't waste any time. So he let himself out and jogged barefoot over to Trip's cabin. Fortunately, it was late enough and the corridors were deserted.

* * *

"Commander, it's me," Malcolm announced, ringing the companel.

"Don't stand too long in the doorway," Trip urged.

The door opened and Reed had barely the time to slip in before it closed again. He found himself in total darkness.

"If this is one of your practical jokes, Trip, I'm in no mood to appreciate it," Malcolm warned. "And give us some light, for heaven's sake, I can't even see you!" he grunted.

"You don't have to see _me_, you have to see _it_," Trip's voice said from a spot somewhere on his right, "And that's best done in darkness." He didn't sound as if he was joking.

"_It_? What are you talking about?" Reed asked warily.

There was a moment of silence.

"I was lyin' in bed ready for dreamland," Trip explained, "when I heard a scrunching noise and saw a couple of yellow discs over on my desk, glowin' in the darkness. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

After a moment of surprise, Malcolm fired a volley of questions. "Yellow discs? How big? Have you found out what they were? Have you seen them any more?"

"Yes. About the size of small coins. Yes. No." Tucker replied without missing a beat.

It took Malcolm a few seconds to figure out which answered what. "So what were they?" he enquired.

"I switched on the light. On my desk sat some kind of a… squirrel - actually it was more like a big mouse, although different: four short legs, no tail, big pointy ears, completely furless, purplish skin, sharp teeth - it was munching on my padd the damn thing - yellow glowing eyes. Family unknown." Trip concluded with a sigh.

"Where the hell did it come from?" Reed exclaimed, then hastening to add, "Forget it, we'll leave that for afterwards. What did you do?"

"I just stared at it and kept as still as I could, while I tried to figure out my next move. What else could I do?" the engineer replied with a hint of annoyance.

"And?" Malcolm questioned, as he began to look around in the darkness.

"Look, let me make a long story short: the damn creature is fast. And I mean _fast_. The moment I twitched a muscle it got away. I got my scanner out and checked for its biosign. It's here alright. The problem is not so much findin' it, but catchin' it. In the darkness it doesn't seem to move around as much."

Malcolm turned the problem in his mind.

"Fine. Why don't you turn on the lights, frighten this… 'squ-ouse' out of its hiding and let me stun it," he stated after a moment.

"What did you think? That's what I called you here for," the engineer snorted, "But, believe me, it won't be easy. That thing can move."

"Oh - I see you have a lot of faith in your Armoury Officer's shooting skills," Malcolm replied touchily.

"My Armoury Officer, not so many hours ago, missed his aim and nearly stunned me," Trip declared much in the same way.

Reed's glare was lost in the darkness. "Well, this time I'll do better and not miss you," he retorted grumpily. Then, with a note of eagerness, he asked, "Where is our little friend now?"

Tucker raised the lights a little and turned to look at Malcolm. "In the toilet. And don't call it 'our little friend'. You oughtta see its teeth. You ready?"

Malcolm nodded to him, smirking. "Let's get on with the safari," he said, making sure his pistol was set on stun.

Trip rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious anticipation, checked his scanner again and raised the lights a bit more.

"It's movin'," he said after a moment. "Watch out, here it comes!"

Reed saw a purple ball dart out of the toilet and fired.

_Miss_.

The creature began to run around wildly, bouncing off walls and scuttling from one side of the room to the other, while Reed followed it with swift, precise movements of his outstretched arm.

_Zap – miss._

_Zap – miss._

"Damn, Mal, I told'ya!" Trip exclaimed, getting out of the way of the animal without letting his eyes off it and backing clumsily towards his desk, "Don't let it get to the…"

There was an ominous sound as Trip tripped over his backpack and fell backwards over his desk, then crashed onto his chair which overturned and fell with him to the floor.

"…vent!" the engineer finished with a groan of pain.

_Zap._

"That wasn't too difficult," Reed calmly commented, smugly regarding his prey which lay stunned before the door. "Though I'll admit, the ugly little monster is quite capable of warp speed."

The comm. chimed.

Trip painfully picked himself up and reached to press it.

"Tucker."

"Ensign Jonas," the ensign at tactical answered tensely. "Sir, we detected phase pistol discharge in your quarters."

Reed sighed. _Of course. I must be really knackered not to have thought of it. Good boy, Jonas._

"Ah, yes, it's nothing Ensign," Trip replied, schooling his voice to sound absolutely relaxed and normal. "I forgot to bring back my phase pistol to the armoury after our mission and accidentally fired it, while I was, uhm, cleaning it. Sorry to get you worried."

There was a pause.

"Four times, Sir?" Jonas sounded uncertain. "We detected four discharges."

Reed went to the comm. "This is Lieutenant Reed, Ensign," he said in his command voice. "Everything is quite alright. But you did well to check. I'll see you in the morning."

As soon as the comm. link was cut, Trip groaned and stumbled to the bed, collapsing heavily on it.

"I think I might've pulled a muscle in my leg," he declared, wincing.

Reed ignored him as he regarded with a knitted brow the open backpack on the floor.

"How do you suppose that creature got into your cabin, Trip?" he finally asked, innocently.

Tucker stopped massaging his calf. "Well, in the backpack of course, it seems quite elementary, _Watson_."

Reed tilted his head. "And why did you bring this filthy backpack back to your quarters?" he insisted, frowning.

"Because." Trip replied secretively.

At Reed's questioning look he added, crossly, "I needed to get somethin' from it."

"Brilliant. You brought this pack to B deck without properly checking it before. Great security. The Captain and T'Pol better not find out about it," Malcolm grunted. "Are you at least certain that there was only one of those creatures?"

Trip shot him a 'do-you-consider-me-that-dumb?' glance. "Of course. The scanner only picked up one. Any other questions, Sherlock Holmes?"

Malcolm looked at the backpack again, and then at the desk, where Trip's Hawaiian shirt still lay, all crinkled and crumpled. _Oh, yes. _He raised his eyebrows.

"Why did you bring your obnoxious Hawaiian shirt on our away mission, hidden in your backpack?"

Trip's jaw dropped open, but he regained control in a blink. "Look, why don't we concentrate on one thing at a time," he said as he got up from the bed and limped to observe the stunned creature. "We oughtta get rid of this thing or do somethin' with it before it comes round."

Malcolm allowed himself to get momentarily distracted from the 'Hawaiian shirt mystery'. Tucker did have a point.

He got down on his haunches and examined his prey. "I believe we should bring it to Doctor Phlox," he said. "He'll know what to do with it."

Just as he was saying that, he saw a shiver run through the creature's body.

"And we better do it now, I don't think this thing's going to stay unconscious for much longer," he added with urgency.

"Well, give it another shot!"

"So that Jonas definitely decides to gather a security detail and show up at your door?"

Malcolm looked around, then stood up with determination and grabbed Trip's shirt.

"Hey, what are you doin' with my shirt?" Trip cried out.

"We need something to carry 'squ-ouse' to sickbay," Reed replied. "Unless you want to use a stretcher? And don't tell me your precious shirt's going to get spoilt," he added, anticipating Tucker's protest. "Aside from the fact that it already is– awfully crinkled at least – it would definitely mean an improvement in your appearance if you were never to wear that outrageous piece of clothing again."

And before Trip could do anything to stop him, he enveloped the creature in the shirt and knotted the corners tightly.

"If that shirt gets…"

The bundle in Reed's hands began to shake and Trip's complaint trailed away.

"Let's go!" Malcolm urged, keeping the shirt at arm's length.

Tucker looked at himself and then Reed. "Like this?" he exclaimed, "Barefoot and in shorts?"

The lieutenant shot him a concerned look. "Trip, if that creature really has sharp teeth, it can nibble its way out of there pretty quickly."

"Damn you, if my lucky shirt gets holes in it because of you, you won't get away with it, Malcolm!" the engineer seethed. But he triggered the door open and looked cautiously outside.

'_My lucky shirt'? _Reed briefly considered what implications those three words could have, but another jolt of Trip's 'Honolulu Baby' quickly pushed that issue to the back of his mind.

They stole out of Trip's quarters like thieves. Reed prayed that nothing would happen that would require viewing the security tapes of that night. All evidence of two scantily clothed senior officers creeping though the ship to sickbay would definitely have to be erased. As for Phlox, they'd have to find a way to bribe him into silence. _Solemnly vow to behave next time we land up in sickbay? No, no, that would give the doctor too much of an upper hand._

He was already beginning to think that they had gone undetected, when he heard a familiar trotting sound approaching. And where that trotting sound was, invariably was also…

"Slow down, Porthos, we're not running a marathon!"

… Captain Archer.

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other in alarm.

"What now?" Trip mouthed.

Malcolm looked frantically around, then in what seemed like one swift move pried open one of the access panels that ran along the floor, stuffed Trip's shirt inside and closed it again. No sooner had he got up than Porthos and the Captain appeared around the corner.

"Hey Capt'n, taking Porthos for a stroll?" Trip cheerfully greeted his CO, as if walking around the ship at twenty-two-hundred hours in their present state of apparel was an everyday occurrence.

Malcolm just cleared his throat and, blushing to the very top of his forehead, mumbled, "Good evening, Captain."

"Trip, Malcolm…" Archer stuttered, managing to keep a straight face at the peculiar sight. Those two would never cease surprising him. What the hell were they up to now, creeping through the ship barefoot and in shorts?

"Uhm, I thought you would be both sound asleep, you looked pretty well ready to hit the sack when I saw you in the launchbay," he probed.

"Ah, yeah, we're pretty wiped, so it's really time we went to get a good night's sleep," Tucker said with one of his trademark smiles.

"Porthos! Sit!" Archer ordered in vain.

Malcolm saw with a twinge of concern that Porthos had quite obviously picked up the alien creature's scent and was tugging at his leash, eager to investigate it. The dog seemed to have no intention of obeying his master and Malcolm saw no other way to distract him than go down on his haunches and pet him; maybe some of the scent was also on his hands.

The idea worked and soon Porthos was directing all his attention on Malcolm. However, it was so uncharacteristic of the lieutenant to give anything more than a fleeting glance at the beagle, that Archer became even more puzzled.

"May I ask what you two are doing this late and… out of uniform, so to speak?" Archer investigated, unable to restrain his curiosity.

"We are coming from the gym, Sir," Reed hastily replied while he endeavoured to make it look like petting dogs was all he had ever done in his life. "We were a little… wound up after our mission and I suggested a bit of exercise might do us some good."

"And you two are in the habit of going to the gym barefoot," the Captain stated perplexedly, shifting his gaze from Trip down to Malcolm.

Trip hesitated just a moment, then said, "Uhm, I've read somewhere that it's actually very good to walk barefoot, stimulates I don't know what under your feet and makes you a helluva lot healthier, so I… convinced Malcolm to try it out. And it works, Capt'n. I feel better already."

He grinned, proud of his imaginative answer, forcefully ignoring Malcolm's obvious embarrassment. "I hope it's alright with you, Sir," he then added, innocently.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Archer replied, still quite intrigued, "As long as you don't ever become convinced that it's healthy to go around in the buff…" he chuckled, echoed by the two officers. "What you do in your free time is really none of my business…"

Trip and Malcolm exchanged a glance of relief.

"… unless of course it's something dangerous or against rules," Archer concluded, stressing the words.

"Who, us? Where did you get that idea!" Trip bantered.

Archer felt something wasn't quite right with his two officers, but decided to let them off the hook. After all, they had just completed a mission without ending in sickbay, so they deserved a little reward.

"Well then, I'll see you in the morning," he said. "Come boy! Leave Malcolm alone now."

He tugged at the leash and began to walk away, dragging a recalcitrant Porthos along.

TBC

One more chapter to go… and, ehm, I don't know if anyone noticed, they are heading for sickbay…


	7. Chapter 7

777

Trip triggered the doors of sickbay open and Malcolm marched in, holding the jerking bundle of his friends' shirt with an outstretched arm. Tucker followed.

A moment later Phlox's memorable features appeared from behind a dividing panel.

"Ah, Commander, Lieutenant," he greeted them with his habitual exuberance. Then he seemed to realise who exactly was standing before him and added, frowning, "I thought I found nothing wrong with either of you; could I possibly have overlooked something?"

"We're fine, Doctor," Malcolm replied with the most reassuring voice he could muster, cringing at the idea that Phlox might believe otherwise. "We just brought you a… present, so to speak."

"A present! How very kind of you," the doctor exclaimed, immediately jovial again.

"Yeah, Doc, we… brought back a creature from the planet," Trip added.

"Yes," Phlox said, looking at his shuddering 'present', "Somehow I had gathered as much. What does it look like?"

"Four legs, purplish, no fur, no tail, big, pointy ears, yellow eyes…" Trip replied. "Maybe you can add it to your menagerie?" he suggested with an ingratiating smile.

Phlox regarded the dancing bundle in Malcolm's firm grip. "Well, I am certainly not going to leave it where it is, it doesn't seem to be enjoying its present accommodation very much," he commented.

He held out his hand to Reed, who passed him the 'present' warning him, "Be careful, Doctor, this creature is extremely fast and has sharp teeth."

"How did you capture it in the first place?" Phlox enquired as he put the bundle down on his desk.

"Uhm, actually we didn't," Trip confessed with a grimace. "It must have slipped inside my backpack when I left it open and we carried it all the way back without knowing. It showed up on my desk."

"I see," the doctor chuckled. "Well, let's see what we have here."

He went off and a moment later reappeared with a small cage, which he put down on the desk. Then he opened its top and proceeded to undo the knots in Trip's shirt, while Trip and Malcolm looked on warily.

With caution, Phlox held the shirt over the cage and unfurled it to let the animal drop inside. Nothing fell.

"What the hell…" Trip exclaimed.

Phlox shook the shirt lightly and then, since nothing was happening, turned it to see where the creature was. It was clinging onto the material and looked at them with its beady yellow eyes.

"Watch it, Doc," Trip cautioned. But before he could add anything else, 'squ-ouse' had leapt off the shirt onto the desk, and from there onto the floor, and was running around sickbay at top speed.

"Oh my," Phlox just said.

"I'll be damned!" Malcolm cursed. "Here we go again!"

"Do somethin'!" Trip cried out.

Malcolm looked frantically around. Then he opened a nearby drawer and grabbed a couple of pillows, handing one to Trip.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" the engineer questioned.

"Stand over there," he ordered. "If you please, Commander," he immediately added, belatedly remembering Trip was his superior officer. "Doctor, if you want to give us a hand we may stand a better chance," he told Phlox.

The doctor turned and said, "Let me get my butterfly net, it might help."

A moment later the three of them were strategically positioned: Trip and Malcolm swinging their pillows to try and steer the creature towards Phlox, who stood ready to jump into action.

_Swing_

"Go on, you little devil!"

_Swing_

"Doc will give ya a nice little cage, all for you!"

_Swing_

"Has the blighted monster legs or a warp engine?"

_Swing_

"You have nothin' to worry about, Phlox is good to his creatures!"

But the alien animal was just running around wildly, seemingly with no intention to go towards Phlox. Seeing they weren't accomplishing much, Trip got frustrated and the next time squ-ouse darted between Malcolm and him he dived pillow first to catch it under it.

"Trip, what…" Reed cried out, seeing the engineer in mid air. There was a crushing sound.

"Ouch!"

"Gotcha!"

"Yes, indeed, and I can bloody well _feel_ it too!" Malcolm ground out furiously, holding his right shin and grimacing in pain.

Trip raised his head, careful not to move the pillow under which the creature lay trapped, and seemed to realise only then that he had not only captured his prey but also made a victim: he had smashed into Malcolm and thrown him off balance, sending him to crush against a cart, which had overturned on top of his friend.

"Damn, Mal, I'm sorry."

Phlox ran to Reed's side and got the cart off him. Then he checked his leg for damage with his scanner. "No broken bones, fortunately," he said in relief. "But you'll develop a nice bruise."

"I fail to see how a bruise could be 'nice'," Reed replied through gritted teeth.

The doctor helped the lieutenant to his feet and led him to sit on a biobed. Then he went to Trip, who was still lying on the floor. "Now raise the pillow slowly, Commander, we don't want this creature to escape yet another time."

A moment later squ-ouse was in its cage, being observed by the three men.

"What an interesting little fellow," Phlox chimed, as he scanned the creature. "It will certainly make a nice addition to my menagerie. And, you never know: I may find that it has useful properties. It vaguely reminds me of the Denobulan grombit, which excretes a substance that is wonderful for treating burns."

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other in disgust.

After a moment Phlox turned to the two of them with one of his typical wide grins. "So, gentlemen. You did end up in sickbay after all. Although only one of you requires my care."

"I'm fine, Doctor," Reed hastened to say, slipping off the bed and gripping Trip's arm for support. "No need to worry, it's nothing, really."

Phlox reached for a pair of crutches and offered them to Malcolm. "Here Lieutenant. These will help you, for a day or two," he suggested.

Malcolm shook his head and started towards the door, dragging Trip along. "Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but they are not really necessary. And sorry for the upheaval."

Phlox let them get to the door and then called out, "Ah, Commander?"

Trip turned.

"You're forgetting your shirt."

The doctor went up to them and handed Trip the sorry-looking garment. Then he blithely asked, looking pointedly at the two officers, "Am I right in assuming that the Captain and Subcommander know nothing about… that creature?"

"Uhm, as a matter of fact you are, Doc," the engineer replied, embarrassed. "Although I will have to mention it in my report," he added, cringing at the idea.

Phlox hesitated a moment then suggested mischievously, "You might say that it was a surprise present for the CMO. After all it was, wasn't it?"

Trip considered his words for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose it was," he replied with a smile. "Thanks, Doc."

"You are welcome."

* * *

"Who's the lucky lady?" Hoshi asked, seeing Trip carry a covered tray out of the mess hall.

The engineer smiled. "Come on, Hoshi, don't you know better than to ask a guy such personal questions?"

"Don't worry, Commander," the ensign replied, "Your secret won't last very long. The ship's grapevine…" she let her singsong trail.

"Don't you dare set it in motion," Trip admonished.

"By the way," Hoshi said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "Lieutenant Reed was seen limping today, when he thought nobody was looking. Surely nothing to do with yesterday's away mission?"

"Oh, no. Must be a case of gout. Good night, Ensign." And Trip quickly left, leaving Hoshi wondering.

* * *

"Come," Malcolm called from the toilet, where he had just finished taking his 'end-of- shift' shower. He leaned out of the door to see Trip enter. "Be with you in a minute. Make yourself at home," he said, before disappearing again.

"Take your time." Trip put the tray down on the desk and sat in the chair.

A moment later Reed reappeared wearing sweat pants. He got a T-shirt out of his wardrobe and slipped it on, while he eyed the tray with curiosity.

"If that's food, thank you, Trip, but I've already eaten," he said. "My shin might hurt but I _can_ walk, I don't need a waiter," he added with a humorous smirk, sitting on his bed.

Tucker shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "Look, Mal, uhm, I'm really sorry about that. I guess I got carried away…"

Malcolm chuckled. "Ah, forget about it. It's not the first bruise, nor will it be the last, that I collect. All's well that ends well," he said.

Trip was a little surprised. He had expected Reed to be still upset about the incident. He smiled at his friend and said, "Thanks, I guess I owe you one."

Malcolm paused, pursing his lips.

"How about telling me, then, why you carried your precious Hawaiian shirt on our away mission," he enquired mischievously.

Trip heaved a deep breath and made a mental note never to say again, for any reason, to anybody 'I guess I owe you one'.

"Alright, alright,"he replied resignedly, _here goes nothing, _"As a lucky charm." He braced against an onslaught that didn't come.

He saw Reed's eyes dance but the lieutenant kept a straight face. "A lucky charm," he echoed.

"Yeah, that's what I said, didn't I," Trip mumbled with a hint of irritation. "And even if it's not very _scientific_, let me remind you that we did complete our mission, for once, without a brui… a scratch."

"TUSAM was defeated," Malcolm concurred, nodding, and Trip regarded him curiously.

"Well, aren't you goin' to laugh, pull my leg, and tell me that I'm a 'bloody' whatever?" he asked, frowning.

"I don't think so," Reed just answered. "After all, they… I mean _it_ seems to have worked."

Trip saw a faint blush colour his friend's cheeks.

"Wait a minute, _they_?" he stressed, a funny thought crossing his mind. "You mean to tell me you have a lucky charm too?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"I never said that," Reed hastened to answer, "I don't really believe in lucky charms."

"Sure thing. So what's yours?" Trip enquired flatly. "It's only fair that you tell me."

"I told you, I don't really believe in these sorts of things …"

"But?"

There was a pause. Reed lowered his head and knit his brow.

"Well, I've got this little stone a friend gave to me a long time ago," he said softly. "She said it would bring me luck. I was still a child and, as children often do, I got attached to it. I've kept it, as the memory of a happy moment; I happened to have it with me one time, before Enterprise, on a dangerous mission. I narrowly escaped death that time, for a series of lucky circumstances, and ever since then…" his words faltered.

He raised searching eyes to meet Trip's. Seeing no hint of mockery in them, he got up, pulled a drawer of his desk, produced the small grey stone and offered it to his friend, who took it and put it in the palm of his hand.

"I'll be damned!" Trip's said, with a good-natured smile.

Reed quickly took the stone back and put it away. Then he sat on his bed again and cleared his throat.

"Even if I have already eaten, you go ahead," he said in a forcefully cheerful tone, steering the conversation away from the somewhat embarrassing revelation, "Your food must be getting cold."

"Ah, but I never said that was our supper," Tucker replied mysteriously.

Malcolm frowned. "You don't happen to have another creature in there, do you?"

Trip just chuckled and lifted the cover off the tray, revealing half a pineapple, artistically sliced by Chef, and a serving of pie. "Ta-da!"

"Pineapple!"

"And pecan pie. I thought we might celebrate our victory over TUSAM."

"A brilliant idea, Commander," Reed said with a rare, full smile.

After a few moments Malcolm asked, "I suppose that shirt if yours didn't get too ruined?"

"As a matter of fact," Trip grunted, "It got a couple of tears in it. I'll have to bring it to the quartermaster to get it patched up."

"Uhm, sorry," Malcolm mumbled. "Though I still believe the thing looks obnoxious."

Trip glared at him. "What? My lucky charm?"

Reed shook his head, smirking. "I don't _really_ believe in luck, Trip," he insisted.

Tucker paused. Then he snickered, "Well, I wouldn't let my shirt hear you, if I were you. Look at what happened to you for treating it the way you did."

"So now you mean to tell me that I got a bruised shin because I caused a couple of tears in your lucky charm?" Malcolm asked in bewilderment. "Sorry, Trip, but it wasn't a gaudy Hawaiian shirt that sent me crushing against a cart in sickbay."

There was a rather long silence.

"Damn! Phlox was right, you know? This time was no different from the others: we can't really say that we _didn't_ end up in sickbay," Trip muttered.

Malcolm sighed, leaning against the bed head. "At least we managed not to remain there. But still, it just goes to prove: lucky charms don't really work."

The lieutenant stretched, letting out a long groan. "I've had a bloody exhausting day. And I'm not looking forward to tomorrow morning: I'm supposed to have a sparring session with Ramirez," he said with a glance at his sore leg and a grimace.

"Oh, I'll let you rest, then," Trip said, standing up to leave. "Though I'm sure you'll give him a good whippin' no problem," he smiled reassuringly.

Malcolm tilted his head. "Well, thank you, Commander. It's good to know that you at least have a little faith in your Amoury Officer's fighting techniques, since you don't seem to have much in his shooting skills," he commented chuckling, as he limped to the door with his friend.

"I sure do," Trip smiled as he stepped into the corridor casting a glance at Malcolm's injured limb. "But for a bit of extra luck, Lieutenant…" he waggled his eyebrows, "'break a leg'!"

THE END


End file.
